The propitiation continues

The Moving Gods are fickle and demanding things that follow more closely Douglas Adams' theory ("There is a theory which states that if ever anybody discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened.") than the changeless nature of changeable things. You know you will sweat. You know something will be broken. You know that there is such a thing as things going too well. You know this.

But you have no idea how any of these things will manifest.

People whose moves are always easy are people that I cannot bring myself to trust; they do not move through the same dimension of this world that I do and are suspect. Usually I run into problems of time and space - needing more of the former and not quite enough of the latter. I start packing too late and do not enlist enough help to make the move timely.

We started packing in June and half of my things were already in boxes.
Everything of mine (with the exception of the backseat's worth of things traveling with me and the cats (not owned by me, but traveling with me (can't own cats)(they are the rulers of the living space)) is in one of two storage units.

There is also a discomfiting amount of stillness in moving: sitting in cars, waiting in lobbies, filling out applications at tables, hoping for phone calls, etc. When all of that is added to the frenetic race to get all of the boxes up the stairs before your legs fall apart and all of the kitchen stuff unpacked before your stomach growls through your colon that it is revolting and will now start eating your brain and all of the bathroom stuff out so that you can take that shower that you've been promising yourself for the past I don't know how long and finding all of the screws that put the bed together because there will be sleep tonight, dammit! - it seems like a balance, but it isn't. This is the closest that most of us will ever get the constant imbalance of a life unplanned and unscheduled but very definitely lived.

Will Durant provides me with a certain degree of background awesome.

The cats have learned to hate their afternoon walks, except for Horace who is constantly in need of going to the other side of the front door and then just not really doing anything.

And tonight, there is a social event. Mama made deviled eggs. I haven't eaten any of them.


Yet.